Free Parking?

Bikes get to park free in Edinburgh. In theory only though, because you have to apply for a permit.

How come I can get a Tax Disk over the counter at a P.O. in five minutes without even filling out a form, but if I want a parking permit from Edinburgh Council I have to: wait in two queues; fill in two forms; wait an hour for my number to be called; be given wrong information and made to feel like a cunt for pointing this out; and still have to wait a fortnight for the actual permit?

This is even more galling when you realise that since any roads in the city centre which have not (yet) been closed due to tram works have been closed for the festival, meaning that moving is a non-starter and parking is basically the only option for the next three years or so.

More Iran Tweets

Faeze Hashemi Rafsanjani and family members being held prisoner in military compound - #Iranelection -half a minute ago from web

# RT ppl prepare - soon Iran will be cripple with strikes - already petrol shortages being reported - #Iranelection2 minutes ago from web

#
RT http://bit.ly/1uRaDK - setting up proxy for Iranians - #Iranelection37 minutes ago from web

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RT Today the militia is in the streets, beating innocent ppls, arresting, burning property, making terror - #Iranelection RT RT RT38 minutes ago from web

#
neutralizer is saline 10g salt/1L water.Use to flush eyes. Bicarb solution for skin 50g bicarb/1L water. #gr88 #IranElection [RT THIS]about 13 hours ago from web

#
RT: Double ck your information before passing it on, Basij is using Twitter to spread disinformation #iranelection #gr88 #iran9 #iran09about 13 hours ago from web

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RT from Iran: Basij are marking doors to attack later. Use oil/petrol to remove marks. Pls RT! #iranelection #gr88about 14 hours ago from web

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RT DO NOT email names or other info of missing and dead to ANYONE - DO NOT RT from USERNAME - exposes ppl to danger! RT RTabout 14 hours ago from web

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RT CNN confirms: Basij raiding homes, dragging people from their homes, marking homes for later raids. WASH MARKS OFF WALLS!! #IranElectionabout 14 hours ago from web

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RT: Besiji may be camping outside embassies now. Be very cautious if trying to go to one. #iranelection [RT PLEASEabout 14 hours ago from web

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RT @rexrufus: "Acid" is tear gas w/ water. Treat w/: sol. of 5% baking soda/95% cold water. Carry spray bottle. #iranelectionabout 14 hours ago from web

#
Pls RT RT RT: لطفا یک روزنامه از امروز در ویدیو و عکسها را تأیید کنید ، که تاریخ بسیار مهمی برای نشان دادن سی ان ان و غیره #iranelectionabout 14 hours ago from web

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RT NEW UPDATED MAP W/ OPEN EMBASSIES 4 INJURED http://tinyurl.com/nwrvsd #iranelectionabout 14 hours ago from web

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PLZ RT CNN confirms people in Iran are being dragged out of their homes & homes being raided. #IranElection #gr88 (vabout 14 hours ago from web

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RT Great map to embassies accepting injured http://tinyurl.com/nwrvsd thanks for making this resource available #IranElection #gr88about 18 hours ago from web

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RT Australian Embassy accepting injured No. 13, 23rd Street, Khalid Islambuli Ave -Telephone+98 21 88724456 #iranelectionabout 18 hours ago from web

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RT IRANIANS FIRST AID INFO NOW IN FARSI !! http://gr88.tumblr.com #iranelectionabout 19 hours ago from web

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RT IRAN RT Injured are confirmed being removed from hospitals and taken away by Basij #IranElectionabout 19 hours ago from web

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RT Injured protests are confirmed to be being removed from hospitals and taken away. #iranelectionabout 19 hours ago from web

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pls don't use sources' names in RTs about #iranelection 20 hours ago from web

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RT http://bit.ly/1EFn - today - #Iranelection

#iranelection

"A critical network upgrade must be performed to ensure continued operation of Twitter. In coordination with Twitter, our network host had planned this upgrade for tonight. However, our network partners at NTT America recognize the role Twitter is currently playing as an important communication tool in Iran. Tonight's planned maintenance has been rescheduled to tomorrow between 2-3p PST (1:30a in Iran)." (http://blog.twitter.com/2009/06/down-time-rescheduled.html)

Twitter just earned its "usefulness" badge.

Last night it was a flurry of communication between Iranian revolutionaries - including messages listing secure proxies free from Iranian government blocks.

The real time on the ground reporting from people directly involved was fascinating (and slightly chilling) and made understanding the truth far easier than it would be from the the news "product" we are fed by professional journalists looking for a 'story'.

The story exists despite the journalist, let the people who were there tell it and let the journalist tell us where to find that.

"only official march today is valli asr. others may be a trap - avoid others - #Iranelection"

"Shiraz university reports of unrest and governor resignation #Iranelection"

"unconfirmed rumours - army generals arrested - many rumours of coupdetat by army - #Iranelection"

Persiankiwi

The effectiveness of Twitter was shown when there were massive protests about a scheduled maintenance downtime being badly timed and Twitter users successfully urged the site ti delay this maintenance until the Iranian rebels had organised their activities for today.

BTW - I think the election result was fair (polls from independent sources have upheld the outcome - I'madinnerjacket is very popular in rural Iran - but that's not the point.

Ach Well

The Christian Voice site is back.

Back to ruin stuff some more.

Which makes me think he simply ignored my email, which I hope made a few pertinent points in a civil manner.

Simply ignoring it is rude.

Hehe

http://www.christianvoice.org.uk/


No wonder he didn't reply to my email.

Seems that privately prosecuting an artist for blasphemy can be quite expensive.....

...or maybe the Rapture has occured and he's been carried off.

OK, probably not. He's just skint because 'it's not 1508' (S. Lee)

No BNP Here.

Even I'm going to vote today. And I'm not even gonna spoil my ballot thus spoiling a recent tradition.

I'm going to vote Green and I'm going to vote Green in the hope that those racist cunts at the BNP don't benefit from those other cunts who make us pay for their duck islands and moats.

64

That's how many measly percent I got for my Sociology essay.

My disappointment was tempered by the superb comments from my tutor which pointed out exactly where I had gone wrong (as well as where I had gone right).

Among the most telling of these comments was:

"Some of it is, however, slightly off-topic, almost answering a different essay question to that set here."

In other words ' twisting the question to fit your answer'.

It's a fair cop. I need to work on that.

I like it when a tutor takes the time to provide a comprehensive critique of my work - it makes the assessment process part of the learning experience and helps me to learn how to express ideas coherently and efficiently.

Having said that, I also like it when few comments are required. When I did higher Geography in 6th year we were set a question from a past-paper as homework every week, and every week I would spent a little more time than normal on them because I wanted to get full marks for at least one during the year.

The closest I managed was 19.5/20 on two occasions - one of which I was docked half a mark for a spelling error. I felt incredibly hard done by at the time...

I did once manage full marks for an essay mind you - and for a proper 2000 worder too; none of this highers crap!!

It was when I (briefly) trained for Primary Teaching (imagine...) and it was for an essay about teaching Drama and Music.

It was marked by two tutors and there were two comments:

"Well done" from one

and

"Well done for showing that a music lesson doesn't have to include a song" from the other.

I wrote it on an early Mac and, iirc, spellcheck ensured that my Higher Geography heartache was not repeated!

The Right Horrible Gentleman.

Don't mind the gap; it's mainly due to laziness on my part.

Anyway, politicians.

Politicians in our society should be role models. People who's attitudes are noble and who's actions are honourable. We, as citizens, should want to aspire to be like them. We should admire them and their lifestyle.

With that in mind I've decided to screw every penny I can from the system and from my friends and family.

The other day I stole my friend's tobacco and soon I might claim every benefit, grant and payment from the government to which I am, technically, entitled. Even if I'm stretching the purpose of the scheme to breaking point I will claim anything which the law says I'm allowed.

I'll start with Incapacity Benefit. You see I sat in the lotus position in the pub for ten minutes the other day and my leg hurts (I think I pulled a hamstring...). I was showing off and as such I deserve to have a sore leg but I've decided that I can get money for it so I'm gonna - just like my masters and role models would do.

I think I'll spend the money on a drawbridge.

Bumming!!!

I mentioned the Collings and Herrin podcasts a few months ago and, possibly a bit late, I thought I should point out that they are not for the comedically challenged.

At first listen you might think that it's a bit sick, then after a while you might be tempted to switch off and decry it as very sick indeed.

If you do that then you may well be the aforementioned humourless cunt. It's some of the best edgy satire around but the layers of irony can be difficult to reveal and the context all too easily forgotten. It might take a while to get used to the humour - think Derek and Clive - but don't take too long or keep listening if you don't like it - Richard won't like that.

Needlessly Delaying Procrastination

Well I got the plan for my essay done at home today, but I know fine well that I'd have done a lot more in the library and if I didn't have an essay to write I'd send a strongly worded letter to all three of my local councillors.

Maybe I'll send one when (if?) the essay gets written, or maybe there will be far too many distractions and I'll forget.

So now I have to find other time to do what I should have done today - which will eat into my planned procrastination time somewhat.

Now I'm not sure if planned procrastination is any kind of procrastination tbh because I'm pretty sure that one can only be procrastinating when one has something more important to do. In that case nothing qualifies - because procrastination is, for me, the most important activity possible - which leaves us with a logic problem.

Is it possible to procrastinate if procrastination is the most important thing in your life?

According to good ol' Wiklipedia however it has to be "counterproductive, needless, and delaying" so delaying alone isn't the issue and therefore I have to re-evaluate my favourite activity.

So I enjoy lounging now.

That'll do.

Poot Poot.

I have an essay to write and frankly I've been having trouble concentrating in my flat; partly because there are too many distractions vying for my attention and partly because it is VERY noisy here with the main road and so on.

So, with this in mind, I decided to study at the local library instead.

Unfortunately, the local library is now basically an internet cafe with a few books scattered around. There is not ONE single, solitary table for reference work or study.

Which is, in my opinion, a fucking disgrace.

Some Drugs are Bad, M'kay.

Cocaine is a killer.

It kills the folk who process it.

It takes 500g of leaves to produce 1g of cocaine, which is why coca chewing and coca tea (maté de coca) do not have the same dangers for the user. It would be impossible to consume coca quickly enough and in such a way that the alkaloids (l-ecgonine, cinnamyl cocaine and alpha and beta-truxillyl ecgonine if you give a fuck) were efficiently released into the blood in such a way as to get more than about 1/4 gram of active ingredient into the system in any 24 hour period.

Chewing coca and coca tea have more of a relaxing, clarifying effect and induce a positivity of mood. Think caffeine without, ironically enough, the jitteryness.

Coca leaves have been chewed and brewed in South America for over 5000 years with no ill effects.
However, to satisfy western demand for intensity, the leaves are processed so as to extract the cocaine.

The first stage involves dumping stripped leaves into a large plastic lined pit (which has to be hidden from the authorities naturally) and mixing them with dilute hydrochloric acid. The mixing is achieved by stomping around in the pit with the leaves and the acid. Sounds like fun right?

This stage produces (paste/pasta/paco) which is around 70% active ingredients. This intermediate stage is very common in the urban slums of South America. It is nasty stuff. Paco is as much of a problem in Buenos Aires since the 2001 collapse as Herion or Crack Cocaine were in US slums in the 80s/90s.

The second production phase is even more deadly. It is also quite complicated and I'm not sure I get the chemistry, but needless to say, it involves more acid as well as potassium permanganate and benzine. This produces a very [ure salt called cocaine hydrochloride.

The third phase is the creation of freebase or crack cocaine.

Smokable coke was developed by the pharmaceutical company Parke-Davies (now a subsidiary of Pfizer) in 1886 and marketed by them as the key ingredient of their 'coca-cigars' product line (incidentally, they also had a neat little vial/needle combo for cocaine injection on public sale too!).however this simply involved smoking the salt and this had the problem that the alkaloids would tend to degrade rather than vaporise.

This problem was solved 100 years later when a simple process involving baking soda and a microwave led to the crack epidemic we know ad loathe.

It kills the folk who fight over its profit.

The number of folk who are killed in the most horrific ways over 'territory' in the cocaine wholesale/retail business is astronomical. This is really more of a legality issue than a chemical one granted, but marijuana dealers aren't being tortured and executed are they?

It kills the folk who use it:

This is the part we already know.

The Tallest Dwarf.

How come you get weight divisions in boxing but you don't get height divisions in basketball?

I bet there are a few "Barry McGuigan of basketball" types around the world: folk who are shit-hot at the technical aspects of the game - can dribble and pass with the very best of them but never get anywhere because height is just so massively important in basketball- just as Barry could punch and duck with the best boxers, but, because weight and power are so closely related, he would have been beaten easily by someone like Tyson.

And just like boxing; the real money and glory would still be in the 'top' division where the tallest/heaviest reside, although we would still get to see 5ft players - just like we now get to see, and enjoy, 10st boxers.

Product.

When you use advertiser driven media what does that make you?

I mean, you would assume that you were the customer right?

Wrong. You are the product. You are being sold to the advertisers.

This has a few implications. Mainly that the media outlets want to deliver a suitable product (you) to their customers (the advertisers) meaning that advert driven media is designed to a) sell to the advertisers' by putting the media outlets' product (you remember) in a position of vegetation and thoughtlessness and b) the content has to appeal to that product (you) which is most attractive to advertisers.

The result of this is that the content of advertiser driven media is designed to appeal to idiots with more money than sense. All of it.

Enjoy.

Jim, is the Footie on the Telly?

I have a new favourite word. I've had a few of these over the years including; procrastinate, augment, big, fuck and wander.

These are all everyday words though - I at least knew how to pronounce them and there was little danger that I would forget them.

That's not the case with hypocoristicon (literally, "to use child-talk") meaning to give something a pet name (or, indeed, it may mean the pet name itself). I have only ever seen it written down so I have to guess at pronunciation and there is little chance that I'll be able to recall it in order to slip it into conversation!

In English this usually takes the form of adding a 'y' sound to the end of the first syllable of a longer word (such as 'telly' or 'footie' or 'Stevie') and is most often seen with first names. However there are some unusual hypocristicons too; like 'bess' for Elizabeth, 'Jim' for James, 'Jack' for John, etc.

The point is that, when I was younger, I wanted a pally, informal version of my name, but being called Mark makes that difficult. Some folk called me Marky, but I feel that this was more likely a reference to my acne ridden teenage skin than a friendly wee name.

So, to combine both, I've decided that my actual new favourite word is 'hypoie' which, I suppose, means something like: 'a bit like that which is under, only smaller' which as we all know is entirely without use as a unit of language and therefore meaningless.

Which sums up me-ness somewhat.

unFIT For Purpose.

The Mayday events throughout the country saw the mass adoption of a new tactic from demonstrators.

This involves concentrating on the FITs and making their intelligence gathering impossible, thus shorting out the Cops' flow of information.

This generally involves shoving and surrounding individual officers or units; however, as recent events have shown, it is life and limb at stake for those who choose to oppose our government now so there is maybe even a little bit of kicking involved.

Snatch-squads too are being interfered with which is positive news.

Just goes to show what can be achieved if people work together rather than competing.

Cheesless, Dreamless and Rested.

I had a dream about my glasses today, unfortunately my dream knew that they were broken and introduced them to me as having been freshly repaired; meaning that the dream did not become lucid, although it might have since I did do a double-take mid-dream.

I have yet to experience a lucid dream since I wrote about it. This is annoying, but on a plus side my sleeping patterns have been great since I stopped eating dairy. My doctor suggested that I might be lactose intolerant so I have been off dairy for about three weeks now (man I miss cheese!!) and I'm not getting the stomach problems and trouble 'switching off' that were keeping me awake before.

But like I said, this is tempered by the disappointing disappearance of lucid dreams. I'm not sure if this is because my digestive system isn't being overworked in the night or because I'm getting more sleep although I suspect that it is the latter.

I might have to indulge my passion for cheese, take the digestive consequences and see if I can dream a little dream sometime. Apart from a few more trips to the loo for a few days after I think it'll be worthwhile!!

Erishkigal Ate my Homework.

A rather uneventful train journey spent reading the stuff I picked up at the British Museum. Spent the second half of the journey wishing I'd remembered to charge my mp3 player.

It turns out that the Queen of the Night is probably Ishtar's (Inanna's) sister, Erishkigal - Queen of the Underworld (Irkalla), whose main temple was 25km from Babylon.

This is a shame because even though the underworld and shit is pretty goth; I liked the idea that a 3000/4000 year old brothel had been found! (Ishtar is the goddess of sexual love, war and fertility - which tells us a lot about the Mesopotamian mentality I think you'll agree...)

There is no Such Place as London?

I made my way all the way up London on Public Transport and thought I'd made it ubtil just before I got onto the last leg, turned the corner at Euston underground and was faced with massive gates over the entrance to the line I wanted. Further investigation revealed a notice saying that the line was closed for the Bank Holiday weekend. Poo!

So I had to get back onto the line I took here and go one stop further to get on the Train Replacement Bus. Which turned out OK and I was only an hour late to meet K at Walthamstow - which, to coin a phrase, is really alright.

North London - even as far out as E17 - is pretty different to South London. In the north you are more likely to be stabbed than shot for one thing.....

South London is generally more 'street' basically.

Lazy Days

Today was mostly taken up by a barbecue and lounging around in a hammock with cats.

There is, in my opinion, no better way to spend an evening.

Is the Queen Ishtar?

Went to the British Museum with my mate K today.

It was a gorgeous day and not really the kind of weather for museum visits so we decided to only visit the rooms I had planned. This was especially handy since K hadn't visited those rooms when he was at the museum a fortnight before.

We went to the Assyrian rooms (6-10) where I wanted to see Ashurnasirpal II's stuff - particularly his human/bull statues but also the reliefs that once decorated his palaces.

The main reason I was there though was to see some of the stuff they have from Ur and the Queen of the Night , a relief which probably stood in a brothel 3,000 years ago. Not only is it beautiful and alluring (she, as I said to K at the time, has lovely tits), but it is also a sign of everyday life at the birth of civilisation and I like those more everyday things just as much as the grand 3 metre statues that guard palaces. The crude statues of wide eyed worshippers left as offerings tell me more about life in cities 5,000 years ago than massive stone bull-men.

Having said that, the massive statues are lovely too.

I bought a guidebook and a wee book about the Queen of the Night at the giftshop. I wanted a poster of the Standard of Ur 'cos it's lovely, but there weren't any posters so I was disappointed for a wee bit, but then K got his mate who works at the museum to ring my stuff through and I got 30% off so I soon cheered up!

Had a spliff next to the BM's lovely lawn and went for a pint in Soho after three hours 'cos it was too good a day for being lost in a museum.

Awwww!

My third niece was born today and I was in the same city as her mother, my sister (obviously), at the time, which doesn't happen much!

So today was spent excitedly waiting for my sister to leave hospital so that we could go and visit her and her new person.

I'm not really intere4sted in new babies; they are pretty boring frankly. And when they aren't boring they are screaming and so are even more unbearable. However, there is nothing more wonderful than a young couple with a new baby. The emotional roller-coaster they ride in the first few days (before the tiredness kicks in) is the human animal doing its thing. They are aware that they have a difficult task ahead of them and they are determined to get it right. They are also incredibly happy.

Things will probably be more routine driven and mundane for them in a few weeks so this is a precious time and I'm pleased that I got to experience the joy that is a young couple proudly introducing their first child into the world.

Oh, and we share a birthday!

That London.

I'm off to London to visit the Queen's House, the British Plunder Room and to celebrate Mayday.

In fact, I should be going now....

Cheerio!

Nearly Getting Run Over

Why is it that some couples walk along narrow footpaths holding hands and refusing to move aside to allow folk walking in the opposite direction to pass and,. as a result, forcing them to walk into a potentially busy road?

Are they so unsure of their relationship that they are afraid to let go of each other unless they wander off and never come back? Or are they simply taking the opportunity to indulge in some socially oblivious selfishness? Maybe. I have no idea.

Whatever their motivation I am simply going to ignore their interconnectedness in future. I'm going to keep eye contact and walk very confidently forward to make sure that they are in no doubt that if they don't step aside and walk in single-file for the split second it takes me to pass then there will be a collision.

That sounds extreme and possible more anti-social than blocking the whole width of the pavement, but I was nearly run over today and I'd much rather walk into an oblivious couple than be smashed into by a transit van.

He Tried To Warn You!

and the sow, though it is dividing the hoof, and cleaving the cleft of the hoof, yet the cud it bringeth not up -- unclean it is to you. Leviticus 11:7 (Young's Literal Translation)

Swine flu clearly has Jahweh's sticky fingers all over it. It conforms to His rather sloppy, brutal and heavy-handed modus operandus.

It will kill randomly but it will be a symbolic slaughter.

No one believed His followers when they insisted that US military dead were His way of telling America that gay marriage was wrong.

No one believed His followers when they told us that the devastation visited upon New Orleans was God telling His lowly subjects that He didn't much care for Jazz.

And no one believed His followers when they pointed out that this was further evidenced by His destruction of the artwork that was Jerry Springer the Opera; whose music, you may recall, was suspiciously syncopated at various points.

Jaweh hates Jazz.

And pigs.

And poofs.

He is, frankly, fucking weird. Don't listen to anyone who tells you He 'Moves in mysterious ways'; that's code for "mental' and it's best not to encourage either Him or them.

Just nod and walk off.

The Sky Pivot Forsook Me.

When I was watching the Pars losing a semi-final to Falkirk I decided that my only hope was to pray to god and ask for help.

After spending 30seconds or so decideing WHICH god I should ask, I decided that Anshar would be the best choice.

Anshar is not only the sky-pivot, which is relevant to the fact that Dunfermline were faring badly because of their "punt and pray" tactics, but also it hit upon me to be a bit sneaky and ask a parent of the supreme god (An/Anu) to intervene on my behalf in the hope that they might have slightly more clout with the most powerful of the gods than some lowly human might have. Basically, I was following the chain of command.

Not surprisingly, it didn't do any good and after about five minutes of pleading An decided to award Falkirk a penalty and made it worse.

So, my question is: why hast An forsaken me? Did I ask wrong? Maybe I was a bit desperate? Possibly Anshar or An are Falkirk fans and were playing with my feeble human emotions? Or maybe, just maybe, one of the other gods got all jealous and shit and decided to punish me for favouring Anshar?

Either way, I forgot all about this when the Cops decided to kettle the Pars fans after the game and hold them until the Falkirk fans had left.

Now, as the winning team, having just beaten their rivals and reached a cup final, the Falkirk fans took quite a while to leave. Meanwhile at least three innocent Pars fans were attacked by the police (one for assisting a slightly built female officer who had fallen over whilst the stricken officer was begging her colleague to stop attacking her rescuer).

My second question is: why did the police decide to detain the losing (and angry) fans who simply wanted to go home and hold them for the entire time it took the victorious (and happy) fans to finish celebrating and finally disperse? When the sensible thing would be to hold the victorious fans and allow them to celebrate away to their hearts' content while the losing fans simply slunk off home?

Is it, maybe, because the police are fucking idiots?

Yes. Yes it is.

Tribal Warfare.

I'm off to Hampden tomorrow!

I'm actually excited.

I'm excited about watching some men kicking a ball because I think I'll get some vicarious glory if the right set of men win.

Aren't I clever?

Yaaaaar!

I wonder what I would do if I was Somali.

Would I prey on passing wealth or would I curl up and die?

I have a feeling that those would be my only options.

Something About Nothing.

I have a working 'phone again.

Yay.

It was actually a piece of cake to fix it once I had the correct part. I bought a broken 'phone of the same sort and turned it on. It froze at the very end of its boot sequence. "Fair enough", I thought "it's having a software issue."

So I plugged it into my PC to see if it would charge and to see if I could access it at all. When I did this it finished booting and was magically working again! It now boots perfectly every time. I was annoyed at first when it didn't come with a data cable as standard, but now I'm slightly less annoyed because the lack of a data cable earned me a a replacement phone at a bargain basement price since I would assume that had the original owner had the data cable and synch software that they would have tried to access it that way and would have fixed the problem.

The only problem is that it's a lovely shade of pink. Now I'm not really that bothered by the colour of a phone as long as it works, but shocking metallic pink is stretching the limits so I decided to swap the screen into mine anyway. Easy-peasy.

Now there are two proactive possibilities here; I either email everyone who's selling this 'phone with what is obviously the same 'fault' and explain that they should just fix it and get its true value, or I could buy them all and sell them on at a profit.

I'll probably just forget all about it though.

Does anyone want to buy a pink phone with no screen?

Waffle.

Religion is a schematic subset of spirituality.

Spirituality is an emotional reaction to ignorance, awe and familiarity.

Religion is when humans take this spiritual wonder and use it to achieve dominance over others. The priesthood in Ancient Mesopotamia will have held "Sacred Knowledge" including the calendar. The calendar was important to agriculture obviously, and agriculture was the basis of the food surplus which allowed the cultural centres and later the great cities.

The priesthood also controlled the cities, including Babilu (or Babylon or Babel)where Marduk ('The Solar Calf') was the patron deity and where one of the earliest known codes of law, Hammurabi's Code, was written which separated the powers of the gods (as performed by the priesthood) and man (as performed by the King).

The fates of the gods was tied into the fates of man and as cities grew more powerful then their gods would take on new aspects gained in the heavenly battle. The priesthood probably convinced the people that their god was really fighting and they fought merely to inspire him (or her - the Mesopotamians weren't sexist) to their victory and that if they lost it was their fault for failing to inspire their patron to victory. Or something equally daft.

Anyway, this practice continued (OK, maybe not in the exact form I described) until the followers of some bloke called Jahweh decided their god had won and killed anyone who disagreed.

What Googlebot Sees.

I was thinking: what with so much data stored online and web-bots creeping around the place, will the new generation of web-bots be able to read the other websites?

In effect, will one "book" be able to read all the other "books" then inform and alter itself based on what it finds? Will the internet become a massive, complex, search for truth?

That is either extremely exciting, extremely scary or both at once; depending on your outlook.

For the record my opinion (which may change depending on the findings of future web-bots) is that, like all technology, it will be a bit of both.

Screen Test.

The screen on my phone broke, or, to be more precise, I broke the screen on my phone.

It's really fucking new as well and this is one of the reasons why I shouldn't have nice things!

Another reason is glimpsed when we look into what I did next.

I decided to replace the screen. I'm good at that sort of thing - hauling things apart and botching a repair. So I toddled off to Ebay (oh what has become of you Ebay? You used to be the people's hope, the Proletariat's last hope against the Capitalist behemoth, but now you, along with your evil twin, Paypal, are that behemoth. Naughty naughty Ebay!) and bought a replacement screen.

All very sensible so far, I'm sure you'll agree. I SAID, I'm SURE you'll AGREE!

Look, agree when I fucking tell you to a-fucking-gree alrighty?!

Good. Now that we're agreed we can move onto the less sensible stuff.

The screen arrived today and I eagerly dismantled my phone (as per the maintenance manual kindly furnished by Tim Berners-Lee and Al Gore), carefully laid out all the components so that I could easily replace them all in the proper order and then I finally noticed that the ribbon cable for the screen - which, remember, was the main object of my dismantling - was fucking fused to the circuit and in no way could it be replaced by a bloke in a flat in Edinburgh. So I tried anyway. Which means that now I can't re-sell the screen because I've attached it to a, now, knackered circuit board.

Also, I have since noticed that I could have got a whole "spares or repairs" phone of the same model (with a working screen attached to a working circuit board) for half the price and delivered in half the time. So, in an effort to send good money out in chase of bad, I've bid on a broken phone who's screen works.

This is another indicator of idiocy and I'll no doubt have spent more money trying to fix this phone than I'd have spent buying a new one.

Today's song has no link, hidden or painfully literal, to the entry. My phone hasn't let me down, and if it had, I'd hardly be beside the phone waiting for it. That would be flawed logic and a bit daft.

I just like the song. And the video is funny.

Resistance=Reform

Have you ever done a crime?

I have, I'm doing one now. I won't say which one, but you can rest assured that you've probably done it too.

Which begs the question; is it really a crime if the hypothetical 'everyone' is doing it? I mean surely a crime is more than just an act (or, increasingly in Britain, a thought) which breaks the written law? Surely a crime is something which goes against the interests of society?

But then, it's not that simple. Is watching a Martyr video made by a Palestinian suicide bomber going to damage society? You could argue that in many ways it could. It gives succour to those who send out confused and desperate kids to immolate themselves for a non-existent God for one thing. But then, what about when the Japanese Prime Minister visits a memorial to the Japanese dead of World War II? Is he not honouring suicide bombers?

The point I'm hoping to make is that the concept of crime and social responsibility are complex and dynamic and it would be churlish of us to say that the written law is somehow infallible and that it's our duty to abide by it simply because it exists. If that attitude had been prevalent in the past then we'd all be serfs and that would be a bad thing, right?

Thank God it's not Raining.

The story of the Flood and what it says about the mentality of the Great Sky God Jahweh has always intrigued me.

I mean, He's meant to be omniscient right? So, He created a world and some creatures who He KNEW would displease Him, - He, after all, made them so - and who He KNEW that He, God, would eventually have to destroy - using the horrific method of mass drowning.

Not only that, but what exactly had all the camels done to displease Him? I'm aware that Camels are, at best, grouchy creatures with a slightly stubborn streak, but, again, Jaweh MADE them that way. Indeed HE FUCKING DESIGNED THEM. But he drowned them for behaving as He, God, intended.

There is no way that a Deity with the powers described in Genesis would not know these things. Therefore God (who doesn't even exist) is a cunt. A petulant, cruel, wasteful cunt.

Seems strange that all the different races and nations of humanity grew, separated and dispersed in 6000 years mind you, so maybe it's not true. Maybe, and don't take this the wrong way, but maybe it's a story stolen off the Sumerians?

In the Eridu Genesis the god Enki warns the King and High Priest Zi-ud-sura (also known as Atrahasis) that the chief god Enlil plans to destroy the world using a flood and instructs him to build a boat; allowing him to survive and repopulate the earth.

Invent your own fucking stories The Judeo-Christian-Tradition.

Cunts

Do the police only ever kill innocent people?

Do they simply raid innocent people if they need a distraction?

Do they ever admit when they are wrong?

(Note for the stupid: The second link is an example of something called satire)

Or do they just cover everything up, lose evidence, invent evidence, murder citizens and walk off whistling a jolly tune?

Like I said, CUNTS!

Corrupt, self-serving, murdering cunts.

Catlessness

I'm still not really over the fact that my cat isn't around any more.

It's not so much that I'm consciously forgetting hat she's gone, but I have little subconscious moments like when I'm unlocking the door after having been out for a fair while and on some level I'm expecting her to be waiting. Or if I half catch some black and white cat shaped object lying on a chair or something I often process the object, briefly, as the cat.

And noises. When she was around I'd assume that all those little creaking and rustling noises were cat-based. Now I briefly dismiss them as that then, especially if I'm dozing or half asleep, the realisation that it can't be the cat is quite jarring. Kind of like the dream thing I wrote about a wee while ago.

Oh, and I still look at chairs before I sit on them!

My friend R said that they have such large personalities for wee creatures and she's right.

I miss my massively brilliant wee pal.

The 96.

YNWA.

Freeeeedom!

I spent a huge chunk of today playing 'Freeciv'; a Civilisation clone for Linux.

It's so fucking addictive! It's one of those games where 'I'll just do x before going to bed/eating/taking a breath' seems to be the mantra. There's a lot to do in running a civilisation; from sorting out research priorities to making sure your cities have enough food to cruise-missiling your enemies.

I'm getting pretty good at it on easy now - so much so that my current game, where I'm Gilgamesh great leader of the Sumerians naturally, is becoming a procession. I'm so far ahead in terms of technology that nobody can stop me (cruise missiles and bombers against cavalry and galleons) so I know I've won already and it's only a matter of time before the other nations realise it.

So, in my next game I think I'll try to win without fighting anyone.

I'll use espionage instead.

Then, maybe, I'll give it a go on 'normal'.

Worth Reading.

Brutality?

Inspirition?

Justice?

Fertile Tributaries.

What is 'mainstream media' and what makes it mainstream?

Well, as far as I can tell, a media outlet is mainstream if politicians will talk to it.

So, I would have to conclude that if politicians refuse to talk to it then it will stop being mainstream and, as a direct result, lose advertisers and stop making profit.

The inference being that media outlets have to follow the same basic agenda as our political masters if they are to remain in the profitable, advertiser friendly, mainstream.

And the agenda IS the debate.

A Joke.

Surprisingly chilled weekend so far.

The Pars lost again and I made soup.

Oh and I wasn't surprised to hear that there was no CCTV footage of Ian Tomlinson being beaten by police. Just like there is never CCTV footage of such incidents. Even when the CCTV operators (at, say, Stockwell tube station)swear blind that there WAS footage.

Funny that.

Maybe they 'lost' it?

This is Not a Riot.

The Met has a division called FIT (Forward Intelligence Team) who's stated job is to spot trouble makers at demonstrations.

One would assume that part of this job is to rule out folk who are not causing trouble -say, for example, when they are walking away from police with their hands in their pockets?

Which is why we should all be interested to note that FIT officers were present at the G20 protest and were seen, on the Guardian and the Channel Four footage, just standing around as if nothing was wrong. They also appear to have colluded with the assaulter in a conspiracy of silence for the week following the death of Mr Tomlinson.

This is because the officer who attacked Ian was NOT a bad apple, he was following Met tactical policy. As far as the Officers present were concerned there was nothing wrong with what was happening. It was a perfectly normal way for an officer to behave.

The fact that a great many front line officers in these circumstances hide their identities by covering their faces and removing their ID numbers is not a 'wardrobe malfunction' either. This too is common practice and allows individual officers to whack whomever they like, whenever they like.

Last Wednesday was NOT a riot. 5,000 protesters were kettled into a small area and (mysteriously) a branch of the most despised banking institution in the country was left unguarded. This is suspicious. What's less suspicious is that 3 or 4 of the angrier protesters smashed it up. Watched by a few dozen photographers, who chose to show this 'action' rather than the footage of side streets were innocent people were being beaten by the police. The fact that this footage (mysteriously) appeared when someone died is also suspicious. Why was this footage (which it is very much in the public's interest to see) not shown AT ALL until a man died?

Anyway, it wasn't a riot, it was a peaceful protest and the vast majority of the violence was perpetrated by the police against innocent members of the public.

I think I Heard it Ping....

As far as I'm aware the police in the UK first started using "kettle lines" during the 2001 Mayday protest.

The idea is to pen in (or, if you prefer, illegally detain) protesters, press, innocent bystanders and anyone else who happened to be there so that no-one can enter and no-one can leave the pen; resulting in an inevitable build-up of pressure until the police would be 'forced' to push back and use batons, resulting in the crowd being contained in an ever-smaller space for hours on end without food, water or toilet facilities.

On the surface, and leaving the civil liberties angle alone for now, this seems like a sensible tactic from a practical point of view. It stops trouble from escalating and reduces property damage. However, it was inevitable that, eventually, someone would lose their life as a result of this tactic since it always involves getting folk who really don't want to be there trapped in a hostile and frightening environment. Most protesters are young, fit, have had some training in how to deal with these situations and are ideologically motivated.

During the G8 protest in Edinburgh for instance I witnessed the Police charging and baton bashing a middle-aged, tweed wearing gentleman who had merely been in a bookshop (I saw him leave the shop holding one of their carrier bags) and wanted to go home. He approached the police lines (from outside the kettle-pen) whereupon he was baton-charged, surrounded and ushered INTO the kettle. Huh?!

I'm sure he's OK, but it must have been a horrible experience for someone like him who was neither prepared nor willing to experience the atmosphere in there. But, through no fault of his own, he was trapped. That particular kettle was moved around but remained in place for a good three hours. I hope he didn't have a weak bladder.

I don't know how many bank windows are trade-able for a human life in the modern market. Can't be all that many judging by the popularity of the tactic.

The fact that it has taken the death of an innocent man (whether or not it was as a result of the tactic is unclear at the time of writing. It definitely didn't help) to bring the brutality of this tactic to public attention is shocking. The press were all over every protest where the tactic was deployed. At many points in Edinburgh there were more photographers than protesters and every time a police line appeared the cameras were snapping away like nobody's business yet none of them chose to report on the police tactics. That, apparently, doesn't sell newspapers. Unless someone happens to die; then it might. Although I have still seen scant few reports mentioning it. They mostly publish pictures of angry mobs containing blood-dripping from one or more faces and/or people the police might want to arrest. As a result the press will be resisted more at future demos I fear, as protesters become aware that the photographers are hindering them in their task. This won't make it any easier for the demonstrators to get their argument out to a wider audience.

The health and safety risks from the kettle tactic are not its only fault however. It is a morally bankrupt notion to treat everyone present at a scene, for whatever reason, as terrorists, criminals and vandals for one thing. For another, it is simply a denial of the right to protest. A right which has slowly been eroded to almost nothing in the past 20 years or so. Also, it is mass-detention of mostly innocent people exercising their right to protest peacefully.

I've heard reports of people in tears, begging the police to let them leave the kettle on Wednesday, including one woman who was desperate to get out so she could collect her child. They were all, of course, refused.

If someone was actually breaking the law then they should be arrested and THEN detained. If they are not causing trouble then they should be free to carry on with their business - the police should have no right whatsoever to detain anyone without first arresting them and charging them with a crime.

The mood in the anti-capitalist subculture seems to be getting heated and differences are being forgotten as they all start to notice who their real enemies are and work together. This, coupled with the inevitable increase in support they will gain from the formally apolitical (who will become increasingly aware of their powerlessness as a result of their troughs suddenly being empty due to the banking crisis), means that we might well be in for an interesting summer.

Homo sum, humani nil a me alienum puto

Except for the stupid ones that is.

Some folk need to stop behaving like fucking plankton.

"Oh the whale is just looking out for us. Protecting us from fishy terrorists"

No it's fucking not. The whale wants to eat you you fucking planktonian turd. The whale wants to whack you on the back of the legs and watch you die. It wants to shoot you seven times in the head. It wants to watch porn using your money and it wants to sell you shite that you don't fucking need.

Fuck the whale, fuck it in the leg whacking, head shooting, porn watching, shite selling blow-hole.

A Perfectly Good Aeroplane.

I've decided to do a parachute jump this summer.

It's something I've wanted to do since I was about seven. I remember sitting in primary school bored, staring out of the window and envying the parachuters (is it parachutists? spellcheck seems to think so!) as they drifted slowly and gracefully to the ground. My teacher (Mr Hughes) may well have noticed them too (although, to e fair, he was far more boring than us, so how he found the time to stare wistfully out of the window when he had 30 seven year old children (no we weren't all 37 years old, that would be stupid) to entertain him is beyond me, so, thinking back, he probably just saw me being distracted) because he set us an exercise where we had to write a factual account of something. He told me to write about parachutieres.

I was pleased with this task. It gave me an opportunity to put my heart and soul into something, to express my love for the freedom that, to me, these parachuterists embodied. So I set to work. Then I realised that it was a factual exercise and that I knew no facts at all about parachutering, I was going to have to make it up and fluff it with opinion and emotional waffle.

Of course, it was rubbish. Mr Hughes called me over to his desk and told me so personally. Nevertheless, it was my first attempt at an essay style which would later serve me well with a little fine tuning and minimal research, so I have my ignorance of parachutaneering to thank for that.

So the parachuterer has, for 30 years now, represented both freedom and imagination so I reckoned it's about time I gave it a try.

If only I could find the embodiment of 'twisting the question to fit your answer' I'll have both my essay writing techniques covered.

Said the Joker to the Thief.

If you have a wee look on the post 'mysanthropy' you'll notice that there is a comment from a photographer complaining that I 'stole' his work.

At first I was tempted to reply with something like 'I couldn't resist it because it was the ideal representation of a cheap cliché I was using ironically' and going on about how he should be pleased that I was getting his work out to a (slightly) wider audience. But I resisted and instead decided to reply with an apology.

But it seems that I can't reply to this blog as myself for some reason and although duality of self has been a recurring theme (or as much of one as can be established in such a short time) I think that multiple personalities would be stretching it a bit.

So I wrote this entry instead.

Just to let Chris know, his free advert for his photography site (check it out and let me know what you think) will be allowed to stay on this blog for as long as his photo was allowed to stay. I will delete his comment after that.

I also think he might have worded his request in a slightly friendlier way. I'd have been happy to put up a link to his website and create a permanent advert for his work for instance. I'd even have been happier had he not said that I'd 'stolen' his work. I didn't steal it. It's more analogous with sneaking into his garden and playing on his swing than sneaking into his garden and taking his garden gnome.

I accept that I shouldn't have used the photo without permission. I blame the ease of use of google images, and I'll be more careful in future. For one thing I WAS stealing bandwidth from his website because l used the copy of his image from there. That was wrong of me.

I should have downloaded the image and re-uploaded it to imageshack or some-such: then he would have been none-the-wiser!

Bleaurgh!

I didn't post anything yesterday because I was feeling uninspired and instead of sitting down and forcing myself to write something (sorta like what I'm doing now) I decided to leave t until later when I was feeling up to it.

That's a mistake since it was clear that I wasn't going to feel up to it at any point yesterday.

I've been sleeping really badly of late so I've been more scatterbrained than usual, which is normally an indication that I should do nothing more taxing than read or watch a film. This, however, does fall into that category since it's basically typing out whatever comes into my head.

Perhaps after the last few entries I was simply worried about what might come into my head!!

Why I'm Never Bored.

I forgot my headphones this morning, so I had to go on a train journey with only my own thoughts to entertain me.

Which is handy because one of those thoughts was the realisation that it is possible (although unlikely) that I could, one day, become Pope.

The Vatican City is the only nation where I have any chance whatsoever (in theory) of being head of state. Even in my country of birth (the UK) I have zero chance of attaining the position by dint of my not having had the foresight to have been born to the correct parents.

I'd have to lie and scheme a fair bit if I was to stand even the slightest chance.

Take the Dream.

I have a great deal of trouble with sleep. It's not just that I'm an insomniac: all sorts of weird/annoying things happen even after I do manage to nod-off.

An example of this is sleep paralysis, a fucking weird experience and no mistake. I experienced this quite regularly for ten years - I'd say from about age 12 or 13 up to about 23 or 24 and it was only relatively recently that I found out what it was - the power of the internet and an imaginative search-string holding the key - so at the time when it was actually happening I had no fucking idea.

It was extremely frightening the first few times. Who wouldn't be shit-scared if they suddenly found that they were paralysed for no apparent reason! That first time the shock sort of jolted me out of it (or, as I now know, I woke up) freaked out and very very sleepy. So I probably fell asleep and forgot all about it.

Until it happened again about a week later. This time I wasn't so shocked, so I didn't wake up as soon as I realised that I couldn't move. I just sort of lay there experiencing an increasing sense of what wikipedia calls an 'acute sense of danger'. It was probably the most frightening experience of my life that second time. Not only did the shock not wake me but I had the other instance as a sort of reference - it happened once for a very short time and now it's happening for longer.

'What the fuck! Am I paralysed now? Because if I am I'd like to point out that I'd rather not be if that's at all possible'. I possibly might have mused.

Eventually I calmed down a little bit.

Ok, was I really paralysed? I tried to move stuff. Really fucking tried with force of will to move stuff and eventually my toes wiggled and the 'spell' broke. I turned over in bed, relaxed and drifted off to sleep,,,,

...except I soon noticed that I couldn't move again.

'Fuck!' I probably thought and put all my mental will into to wiggling my toes. It worked pretty quickly that time! Woohoo! I can escape at will! Now that I am in possession of that nugget maybe I can play around with this and work out what's going the fuck on.

It didn't happen for a few nights, but when it did I went with it a bit. I took in the experience with no sense of danger , cute or otherwise (well maybe a wee tiny fear, bit nothing overwhelming), and it must have been when I fell asleep and dreamed that I'd fallen out of my body.

That's right folks, I fell out of my body and landed on my bedroom floor - all the while thinking I was not only awake, but also paralysed - and the sense of un-cute danger returned with a vengeance.

'Shit-on-a-motherfucking-stick' I probably pondered, and the shock again pulled my out of it - I dreamed that I was 'sucked' back into my body and when I reached it I noticed that it was no longer paralysed.

The atheist in me was confused. I was convinced that it wasn't a dream - it seemed so real - so I discounted that far to quickly (considering it was the truth) if the best result was finding out what the fuck was going on. And I did want to know that, so I kept it pretty much to myself and developed an interest in Sumerian Mythology instead.

It's probably a good thing that I did dismiss it though, because for the next wee while it was great fun playing with it. The best trip you ever had. Literally dreaming whilst you are fully concious! And being in complete control of the dream (but not the environment: the illsion of reality of environment was crucial to making it work I suppose) at the same time!

Take that LSD!

Fuck you peyote!

Kiss my skinny arse ketamin!

I missed it when it stopped happening.

The reason I mention it is because it has recently (within the past 3 years) been semi-reprised with a new weird mid-sleep sport: lucid dreaming (apparently you can teach yourself how to do this). Lucid dreaming is nowhere near as weird or scary though.

It tends to start when something familiar looks out of place. My lucid dreams normally start off in my flat because my unconscious (or the part of me that creates the dreams) seems to work on general-ism and archetypes so there are usually things that the me who experiences the dream can pick out that are out of place.

(I'm not really sure what part of me creates the dreams and what part experiences them, and therefore uncovers the sham, so forgive the vague language and/or pronouns.)

The realisation that I was dreaming woke me up the first few times, but after that I only wake up when something fucked up happens and I want to leave the dream.

I quite enjoy the odd lucid dream, even though they are less 'controllable' than the sleep paralysis hallucinations, so I turned the light switch in my bedroom upside down.

Another fucking non sequitur Mark?

No. I turned the switch upside down because I suspected that the dream-creating-me was too stupid to remember (or even know) that I had done it.

And I was right, that light switch initiated more lucid dream adsventures than anything else.

Although, unfortunately, my cat is beginning to take over that role o late. I wish my fucking unconscious or whatever would get it it into my thick head that my cat is dead and that it is rather rude to jolt someone out of a dream with a vision of his not long dead cat miawing at him. That just ruins it and I end up waking up immediately and annoyed. Then writing this blog entry.

I think that sleep hates me. It even fucks with me when I'm not awake.

G20

I'd like to wish Barack Obama and the other world leaders the best of luck for their summit.

I for one will be very disappointed if their important work is allowed to be undermined by thoughtless protests.

The Drug of the Nation.

I only ever watch TV online these days. Most often I use catch-up services like iPlayer, but sometimes I will use bit-torrent to get something that is unavailable on catch-up - which, as a Linux user, is quite a lot.

This means that, for the time being, I don't own a television set and so I don't have to buy a TV licence.

Not that this stops the Licensing Authority from bombarding me with threatening letters full of harsh language telling me how I may be breaking the law and will be prosecuted. It tells me that I will have to pay a large fine if I'm caught.

I sent them a letter a few years ago telling them that I do not own a television set, but that doesn't seem to have helped. It seems that it is my responsibility to prove that I DO NOT have a television. They want to send an unprincipled (I know this because of what they do for a living) pen pusher to check.

Well fuck them. There is no chance of my allowing their agent to snoop around my home looking for contraband. It's just not an option. What point is there? I could easily hide a television in a cupboard or a drawer - I assume they won't insist on searching my pants-drawer? - or I could have a TV card in my PC for all they know. Are they gonna bring a screwdriver and check inside my pooter?

So basically, there is no practical need for them to snoop around my home so they will be, politely, refused permission to do so.

If they really really want to check then they will need to go to court. And if they do that I'll kick up a shit-storm.

I might even share my story with the Daily Mail.

You see what you are pushing me to the BBC? Do you see?

If they want my licence fee then they have to make it worth my while to own a fucking TV, and that's not going to happen when all they seem capable of coming up with is shite like Strictly Come Dancing and Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps.

Having said that, I might send Stewart Lee, Bruce Parry and Charlie Brooker a fiver each towards their budgets since I do watch and enjoy their stuff.

Oi! Me!

I wrote a diary in my mid to late teens and very early twenties.

I still have one of the volumes somewhere, and to anyone who happened to read it it would be nothing more than the petty and inane drbblings of an idiot. Which is exactly what it is.

I know the character it portrays very well though. I used to be him, and I still share many of his traits, so I have a special insight into him. I remember the circumstances of all of the entries extremely clearly, simply because I wrote them down and periodically read through them again over the years.

I also left little dated annotations as I re-read entries, mainly criticisms of my younger self which serve to highlight the prejudices, broader attitudes and increasing wisdom (gained via the cunning use of hindsight) of various older selves.

Here's the thing though; I can clearly recall that I felt the emotions and believed in the world-view that I expressed in those diaries (and the annotations) but I can't really say that I can recreate that mental state in my present self; I can only remember it. Not in the way that I would remember a third party from the past as such because, apart from anything else, I was party to the motivations and immediate emotional context of my actions and feelings, but I still feel strangely detached from that version of me from half a lifetime ago.

So this is for the me in ten years who might not be able to fully appreciate what it was like to be the me of 2009.

It's OK I suppose.

Better than being the me of 1990.

Jerry Springer the Opera

Yeah, I know, this is in danger of becoming some fawning fansite, but I wanted to share with you (by 'you' I mean the future me) the slightly passive-aggressive email I sent to Stephen, (who I assume is Stephen Green, the National Director) at Christian Voice who objected to the play quite vociferously:

"I have just finished watching the DVD version of this musical and having already heard your objections to it, I was somewhat taken aback by the difference between your interpretation and the opera itself. In fact, the disparity between your description and the reality of the piece is, in my opinion, the most shocking thing about this whole affair and it seems to me that you have engaged in spiteful straw-man building in your criticisms.

Perhaps because one of the writers is an outspoken atheist?

It simply DOES NOT show Christ wearing a nappy! Not at any point does it do that. Never.

The character depicted as Christ only appears in a dream for one thing, and for another, he is clearly wearing a loincloth. The whole of the second half of the play is a criticism of the egotism of celebrity and frailty of man using biblical and poetic imagery. The fact that Springer is dreaming it is why the same actors are portraying the biblical figures in the second half. Therefore, the character in the nappy IS NOT a depiction of Christ and thus the accusation you make regarding the depiction of Christ as a sexual deviant is false. These are the facts.

The part where the Christ character (who, remember, is being imagined by the Springer character) says "I'm a little bit gay" is open to massive theological debate. I'm sure you've heard - and, may I be so presumptuous to assume - ignored them all, so I won't trouble you with them again. If you really want to hear my views on this then you only have to ask. I'll certainly share them with you, however you have to promise not to picket my house if you don't agree.......

I agree, it has a lot of swearing. That, I believe, is a matter of personal taste. Again, I have my own views on the artistic merit of this and if you want to hear them then, please, with the above caveat in mind, ask. I'll be only to happy to tell you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

With brotherly love,

Mark."

I had to go through a spam filter and verification process to get my email sent but hopefully Stephen will read and respond to it. I think, however, that it would be unethical of me to publish any reply he might give: so I would advise anyone who is interested in finding out Stephen's views to email him yourself and ask. I'd prefer you to keep it civil, after all he is a real person. I bet he loves having his views questioned.

The address is in the 'About Us' section of the C.V. website.

Stewart Lee (again)

I just noticed this Guardian article.

Song for today...

The Man (or Woman) From the Daily Mail.

I'm getting pissed off with all the feverish straw man building that's going on at the Daily Mail.

The most recent example of this (that I'm aware of - I don't read it very often) was their coverage of the Frost bloke (you know, David, David Frost, the guy who played that thingy guy in "Long live Hooky Street", the one who isn't not called Dave and also isn't called Dave, you know that one that fell over in the pub and that dropped a light-thingy on the floor in a hotel , you know, the one who's Catherine Zeta Jones's dad?) who told a joke.

The joke was:

"What do you call an Indian Cloakroom attendant?

Ma hat an' ma coat."

A rubbish joke and a stupid pun, but not racist.

No rational person would call that joke racist and none did.

A rational person would simply call that joke piss-poor.

Which is why the Mail's story doesn't hold water when you investigate a bit. They tend not to say very much directly, prefering instead to phrase everything in a way which is clearly designed to allow people who want to think like fascists the excuse to do so, whilst anything that they do actually say is incredibly vague and/or opinion from stupid people in stupid pressure groups and/or simply complete shite.

Let's start with the headline:

"Sir David Jason forced to say sorry after making a 'racist' joke on live radio"

The quotes around the word 'racist' are key. This is The Mail saying "some people have called it racist, those people are stupid, but not us - see how we distance ourselves from these idiots".

Yet no-where in the article do they tell you WHO called the joke racist. The only time the word 'racist' appears in a quote in the article is when it's David's publicist who is being quoted. So, no matter how hard the Mail tried to find someone, no matter how far they dug below the level at which a sane person would normally expect a barrel to stop, no-one was willing to call it racist. But that didn't stop them from claiming people did and from getting all worked up about it whilst at the same time deriding imaginary others for getting worked up over nothing.

Also, Mr Del-Boy was forced to apologise was he? Who forced him? The Mail didn't mention that either; instead it goes into ape-shit-stirring straw man-building overdrive. Shouting off (under their breath) about Muslims and Political Correctness Goooorrrrrn Maaaaahhhhyyyyd and all that other toss they dribble on about. Whenever anything stupid like this happens they're there, waiting. Waiting to twist it out of all proportion and maybe wind a few fascists up into a frenzy. Get them hating brown people even more than they already did. Lovely jubbley.

They give an obscure pressure group, in the shape of The Ramadhan Foundation, a voice, linking the story to Islam, and then they give the bloke from the Campaign Against Political Correctness thing a say, linking it to the PC-Brigade.

To give them their due they did allow a Muslim minister the opportunity to tell them to shut it and grow up.

This misdirection has worked for the Mail for a few years now (since the mid-30s and the article “Hurrah for the Blackshirts” at least) and the comments below the article give an indication of how well it works. The Mail has got a wee bit clever since the 1930s. It no longer prints editorials praising fascism; it simply tries to influence the reader's thought process as they read the article. The sneaky fuckheads. Not really. It's hardly sneaky, it's really fucking obvious; but, like I said, some people want to believe it. Because, like I said, they are idiots. Stupid idiots.

"Time these P.C'S Got a Life and have a laugh because the more you start say jokes a raciest the more they will be heard. But all the joke about English , Scots, Welsh, Irish, Aussie, etc have been around for years and will continue. Just grow up and live with it."

Indeed, Richard, England. You seem like a clever boy. Stick in at nursery and they might let you into big school one day.

"What a great joke. Well done David - stuff the PC brigade how can that possibly be racist in any way shape or form, it was just funny."

No, Dave, PLYMOUTH, England, it fucking wasn't, it was fucking stupid.

"Why should Jason, (or anyone else) who was brought up when a spade was called a spade change his outlook to appease the loony left?"

Since when was a Muslim organisation and/or a Family Values pressure group inspired by Mary Whitehouse (Mediawatch) the 'loony left'? Both are clearly the 'loony right' if anything. Seems to me, David Baker, Reading, that you're willing to call a spade a 'pedally manipulated excavation implement' if it suits your agenda. You idiot.

"Nothing wrong with that joke, apart from it not being particularly funny. Leave Del boy alone! the PC brigade are definitely picking on the wrong cuddly character now."

No, Sarah, Mids, the mythical PC-Brigade are not picking on DJ. Or at least the article doesn't say that, it wants idiots to think it though, which is probably why you fell for it - you idiot.

"Indeed I do think Mr Jason should apologise, but only because that joke wasn't funny."

At last, someone with some real humour. Thanks, Dave, Edinburgh, Uk. Pity the Mail's idiot demographic have rated your comment at -512.

The Campaign Against Political Correctness has a website which features - on their faq - a photo of the Daily Mail's cover from a year or two ago which bemoaned the PC-brigade for forcing nurseries to change Ba-ba Black Sheep to 'Ba-ba Rainbow Sheep'. I did a bit of investigating into this story at the time and I might talk about that one day. Needless to say, it's fuck all like the Mail story suggests. If you are really interested (which I doubt) then it's not to difficult to find the Mail's story or the forum reaction to the Mail's story from idiots, but it's harder to find the truth. It's not that difficult though. Have a look. Their nerve is fucking stunning. As is the stupidity of those who choose to believe it, the fascist cunts.


"The well-established tolerance of the British is rapidly being eroded by these immigrants who want to impose their own practices and values on us." howardinmk (a racist), Milton Keynes Bucks. (my brackets (and contents))

PS- I posted non-sweary, non-threatening comments on The Mail and CAPC sites, I questioned the Raimbow Sheep story on the CAPC site and I asked who called DJ's joke racist on the Mail site. Not surprisingly, neither was published. Which is ironic when they bang on about free speech so fucking much!!

EDIT: I read this again a week later and realised that I'd told the 'proper' joke instead of DJ's version. The DJ version is, of course, the same but with Pakistani instead of Indian. Oops!

You know how you sometimes get a song stuck in your head?

I like singing, it makes me feel carefree and joyful, which is why I'm so annoyed by the fact that I am properly rubbish at it. I'm not annoyed because I want to be a great singer as such, it's more that I'm annoyed the realisation that people will often object to tuneless but joyful singing.

Which is why I enjoy secret singing. You know, where you put on headphones and play out your incredible gusto-heavy performance in your own head.

You can do this anywhere which makes it even better.

I like doing it on the bus, secretly singing and secretly smiling to myself. I know, I probably look quite mad, but if I was openly singing I'd be sectioned so, really, society has got itself a bargain; instead of yet another pissed-off libertarian nutter to contain in the loony-bin it merely has to deal with a slightly strange looking bloke swaying, bobbing his head and occasionally mouthing something like 'baby I've been fucked already' when I get carried away during the loud bits. I chastise myself if I get carried away like this. People might notice and it's a secret remember.

Then I tell myself to lighten up, which makes myself angry with me and I have to calm myself down and make it clear to myself that I don't want to argue.

Calm a llama down.

I am of the opinion that it is inherently funny to successfully ignore the rules.

I think that mocking convention is both big and clever. That's not to say that the consequences of this shouldn't be taken into account mind you. I mean, the famous Star Trek infinitive split never did anyone any harm did it? And it sounded more poetic than 'go boldly' because the word 'go' has an 'open' sound at the end which signifies movement for a start.

My split infinitive in the first line of this blog is less poetic (indeed it is somewhat clunky) but serves to cheaply illustrate the point.

Had I not used it deliberately then would I have been ignoring the rules? Can you ignore something if you are ignorant of its existence? Even if you know the Star Trek example, but you don't know what an infinitive is?

Well, the infinitive is usually 'to' followed by the simple form of a verb (there is no information given about subject, context or time or any of that stuff that verbs often give) but it is not a verb: it can act as a noun, adjective or adverb. 'To boldly go' (or even 'to go boldly') is an adverb (I think) because it tells us why the Enterprise is in space.

It's not always so easy though;

When I heard my alarm clock ring I threw the fucking thing across the room.

If you can spot the infinitive then you are ready to break the rules. Go forth and undermine.

Good luck.

Linux

It's created by what could pass for a free collective of all humanity and it's better than anything any commercial organisation has ever cobbled together to do the same job.

Try it; it's good for your PC and good for your soul.

Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle.

I first heard about the likelihood of this a few years ago when Stewart mentioned making the pilot on one of his live DVD performances, and I remember being a tad excited by the prospect of the return of hard-hitting, cerebral and innovative standup comedy to UK television.

This alone could make it the best year for TV comedy since 2004 (Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, Mighty Boosh and Green Wing all in one sweet sweetyear! Ahhh, the good old days....). Ahhhhh!

Then, in another DVD (recorded the following year) the entire 'entomologists' piece relies on the notion that the series was not commissioned. And it wasn't. But, it seems that a recent kull in BBC management resulted in the series being recommissioned. Ace!

The titles are hilarious to anybody familiar with Stewart Lee's comedy persona. To anyone who is not, they are just a fat bloke failing to look childish then looking bemused instead. Which is funny.

The peogram itself is hit and miss though. I'd rather it was just a straight half hour of standup which I think would suit his style which is based on a slow build up and repetition. His standup is beautifully crafted that it seems a shame to break it up with sketches - even if they do mean he can give his mates (such as The Actor Kevin Eldon, The Curious Orange and The-Bloke-Who-Wrote-The-Joke-'People often say to me me...')-Which-Joe-Pasquali-Stole. (He's called Michael Redmond). The sketches are funny enough and the Channel 4 series were especially good in episode two; but I still think that they get in the way and can sometimes feel a bit clunky and spoil the flow. The Delboy sketch was a good example of this. It looked expensive as well!

There is a wee smidgen of a cheeky 'fuck you' to the medium which ignored him for ten years and good for him, they fucking deserve it. Ignorant fuckers.

All in all it's still great to see a standup being given this sort of opportunity for the first time since (I think) Dave Allen and hopefully the sketches will improve or else I'll grow into them, because I'd hate for them to spoil it.



PS- Lee's old mucker Herrin can be found here playing Andrew Collings's sidekick.

(It is dead good, my favourite podcast by a long way)

Amazing Things.

This one could get a bit rambley.

You don't have to bear with me if you can't be arsed, so this is just a wee advance warning. If you are anything like me and hate reading rambley stuff you'll have stopped reading by now, which is why I find it amusing to address this entire useless, rambling paragraph - which, as we have already established, they are not going to read - to them.

There. After that, anyone who is left isn't going to mind a bit of ramblingness.

Humans are cool. We really are.

Which is why it's a shame that so many of us have to live in fear of starvation so that the rest of us can write blogs and read rambling shite about poverty.

But what do we do?

I have no idea. What I do know is that none of what we are currently doing is working. It's not working even a little bit, and in fact it's making it much much worse. The gap between the richest and poorest is increasing, the numbers of poor are rising (relatively and in real terms) and the avenues for social mobility are being closed off.

Now none of this applies to anyone in the West, not because we have a Social Welfare system, but because we exported our poverty to other countries. Now our cheap goods are manufactured by cheap labour abroad. The low wages and the subsequent mass scale hand to mouth existence means that entire countries often have little cash to invest in infrastructure at any level.

This is our fault. We buy whatever the fuck we want and we never consider the consequences.

This is business' fault because they lie to us or allow themselves to become so big and cumbersome that they are incapable of ensuring their responsibilities are properly carried out; i.e. they don't know what the truth is.

It is ultimately our fault though. We want stuff because we do. We want it cheap and we want it easy but we probably won't want it any more soon, because times have moved on; there'll be new stuff to want and wanting the old stuff is now considered stupid and a bit weird.

So maybe we need to be a bit fairer. The humans we lock in factories all day so we can have the latest style of (say) cheap crockery are also amazing, so maybe we should buy less crockery but pay more for it, take better care of it give the amazing creatures who make it a reward in keeping with his/her sacrifice of time and freedom so that they can do some amazing things for themselves for a change - because as it it they are working to support our lifestyle and that's not fair.